<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>And So It Was by 1f_this_be_madness</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25666891">And So It Was</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness'>1f_this_be_madness</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Awkward Brian, Band Fic, Brian is a sweetheart, Dancing, Drinking, Epic Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Hugs, Insecurity, Inspired by Music, Loneliness, Rog is a good mate, Rog is pretty and Brian is aware of this, Roger is a goofball, Smile (Band) Era, University</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:56:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25666891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's good to let off a little steam. </p><p>Even when you don't know how, or don't realise that you need to. It's a lucky thing that someone else knows.</p><p>(Or, even though Roger has only recently met Brian, he figures some things about his new bandmate upon an impromptu room visit that Brian doesn't know himself. Uni, circa 1969)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian May &amp; Roger Taylor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And So It Was</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Brian forgets, sometimes, how to talk to people.</p><p>Or maybe not to talk, per se, but the nuances of interacting; he's known Tim long enough now as to be able to just blurt out his thoughts, or to be quiet, and his friend knows what's going on with him. Or even if he doesn't, he merely shakes his head and chuckles fondly and says that's just his Brimi, not to worry. </p><p>But Roger doesn't know him that well yet. Roger, with that soft dark-gold hair framing his soft face, those big blue eyes and his perfect teeth, who flicks out his tongue and smiles and laughs so uproariously and who gets on with just about everyone, immediately. Brian envies that and also finds himself drawn to the brightness of Roger. </p><p>He feels as if he is a moth drawn to a flame, at least sometimes - because he'd only just met the man, really, a few months ago, and they're going to be in a band and go gigging together and he likes Roger but he hasn't figured out how to let his guard down and he really doesn't know what's going on as of yet, if they're friends or simply bandmates at this point. </p><p>All he knows, is sitting with hands clenched between his knees as Tim waves cheerily and says he's off for the night, don't wait up, is that Brian feels the dark cold pull of loneliness threatening even as he nods and lifts a hand, tries to smile. He figures it's going to be one of those nights where people are headed out, and he pushes fingers through his hair with a sigh as he unbends his lanky limbs before standing. Hasn't got anything to do, or any plan, really, only that his chest thuds hollow as the <i>BOOM</i> of the door after Tim leaves. </p><p>They had been doing some jamming, and he's so excited for what is to come, what Smile shall surely be now they've got themselves a drummer. Roger is brilliant. </p><p>Brian wonders if he's told him that yet, really. He'd written that they needed a drummer that was "Mitchell, Baker, Moon" on the notice board outside Imperial, but it boggles his mind still at what they'd got. Who they have now - Tim laughed delightedly over how funny Roger is, said that he's a good bloke, good for them. Brian was quieter about it, but he agreed. He hopes he showed how excited, how awed he was - is every day they work together, really - over Roger's talent. He wants to say something about it, but he isn't at the point in knowing Roger where he is comfortable just... blurting out. And something makes him hesitant as he finds himself heading out of his room of a sudden, heading to Roger's. </p><p>Tries to let himself be, even as he also attempts to talk himself out of this, Roger likely has something going, either he's out or has people in, and Brian doesn't want to bother him. But if he's not in the room, Brian reasons to himself, you can just head back to yours and find something to do that you won't regret tomorrow.</p><p>He had been thinking of locating something to drink, to sit and read a paper, or do a bit more playing on his guitar, alone - still could do so if Roger isn't here. But holding his fist in the air awkwardly, preparing to knock, he hopes desperately that the younger man is in. Then chastises himself inwardly for being desperate for one-on-one interaction. Because how sure is he that Roger hasn't someone round, or is going round himself?</p><p>Brian answers that with a hard huff of air exiting his nostrils as being practically bloody certain. He rocks on his heels with his hand in the air, deciding to knock, even so; even as he berates himself for being so ridiculous and needy. He prepares himself for Roger not being there, or not wanting him there, for a laugh in his face and the remonstration to go back to his room. Brian breathes and prepares but he's not ready, not really, until the door opens of its own accord and a giggly couple of coeds depart. Roger winking after them and leaning in the door wearing trousers and an open shirt, almost like a jacket, dark with gold flowers on, over his soft stomach which glows golden in the light. His cheeks are flushed, teeth flashing bright, eyes half-lidded. </p><p>Brian lowers his pale arm awkwardly, knobbly fist and lengthy fingers and ridiculous stance just frozen there, but Roger's face splits into a bigger smile, if that's possible, and he shoots out his hand, curling it round Brian's arm to squeeze. "Brian, how's it going, mate?" That high voice seems excited, sounding glad to see him, if it's not just wishful thinking.</p><p>Brian gulps and bobs his chin, riot of black curls swinging as he responds "Hullo, Roger, it's going alright," his voice is ever gentle, sweet and quiet, and then "I was wondering - I mean, Tim went out just a bit ago, and I wasn't doing anything, thought of you, and -" and he's going to sound pathetic if he finishes that sentence, he knows - so he stops and bites his lower lip, long teeth pressing into the flesh of it as his hazel eyes flicker up, huge and hangdog and there's a sound almost mournful from Roger's radio as a new song starts. Brian blinks, caught out of his thoughts and words at the sound of an organ playing, and Roger takes that second to tug him into the room, closing the door behind the both of them. </p><p>Any way he can get Brian's gigantic brain to stop whirling. He can see the gears turning as Bri hunches those skinny shoulders of his and thinks he's a bother. Even though they've known each other only for a little, Roger can see that. Sense it, rather. He's still got a hand on Brian's wrist as a voice croons from the radio:</p><p>
  <i>We skipped the light fandango, turned cartwheels 'cross the floor... I was feeling kinda seasick, but the crowd called out for more</i>
</p><p>"C'mon in," Roger tugs Bri into the space next to his little kitchenette, offering "Drink?" Immediately, as if this is wholly natural, that one bandmate can just drop by his unannounced when the other goes off gallivanting.</p><p>He pats Brian's arm and relinquishes him, bending to pick up a decanter and two glasses, one a trifle chipped it seems "Don't have any glasses the right size but we can still do shots with these," he says, and though Bri normally wouldn't, he nods and accepts the drink sloshed into a cup, curling fingers round and lifting it as he looks into Roger's bright blue eyes and the other man crows "Cheers!"</p><p>"Cheers,"</p><p>Both drink, standing by the counter. Roger downs the shot, head thrown back, his throat pulling. Brian attempts to sip his daintily and coughs, which makes Roger shake his head and laugh.</p><p>"Oh, mate, you gotta cannonball it, come on." He pours another one, exhorting Brian "Just get it back, quick, go on, Bri." He nudges Brian with a sharp elbow, and maybe it's the alcohol or the nickname or the ease with which Roger had automatically tugged him into the room, not caring that he had arrived out of nowhere unannounced, seeming genuinely happy to see him, but Brian does as he is bid. He grins at Roger, a real smile that flashes his long teeth.</p><p>Roger nods as if in satisfaction. "There ya go, let's loosen up," he says and with an easy shrug of the shoulders, slips his open shirt off and stands bare-chested, spinning away from the counter as he tosses his garment onto the little couch before turning the radio up a bit. His high voice roughens as it does when he provides backing harmonic vocals as he sings.</p><p><i>"The room was humming harder as the ceiling flew away,"</i> Roger's lips are twitching as Brian steps and leans into the counter heavily. Ridiculous, it was one shot - well, two, if he's counting the first one he'd sipped - but it's not only that, it's the light, and the fact that his chest is not so tight now as he is here with Roger, keeping company. </p><p>
  <i>"When we called out for another drink, the waiter brought a tray,"</i>
</p><p>Roger lifts his eyebrows and waggles them suggestively, nodding to the decanter, and Brian, though he doesn't consider himself to be a drinker, shrugs and offers alcohol to Roger, who beams as he holds out his cup. </p><p>Brian pours a smaller amount for himself as Rog gulps his and then surprises him by almost belting the next words of the song that's on, waiting for Brian to drink before grabbing his hand and tugging him as if to dance.</p><p>
  <i>And so it was that later as the miller told his tale<br/>
That her face, at first just ghostly turned a whiter shade of pale!</i>
</p><p>Brian's hand trembles but he manages not to drop his glass or spill anything, and he feels his muscles clenching in surprise as Roger's warm body now presses to his, the other man's hand curling around his side to rest at the small of his back. He wouldn't be clear on implications except that he's witnessed Roger dancing a few times before, and he really seems to enjoy it, and want others to join in, to have fun.</p><p>Roger's soft head is tucked under Brian's chin, and he's half-swaying, the movements of dancing jerky and ungainly looking, which makes Brian's eyes crinkle and his body relax. Roger grins, spinning Bri, arm stretched high as he can, standing on tiptoes as the thin man ducks, black curls brushing against Roger's skin as he does his best to accommodate their difference in height. </p><p>Even as Brian is baffled that they're dancing to this particular piece, he is enjoying it, and finds himself singing softly along to the second verse. <i>"She said, 'There is no reason',"</i></p><p>Roger is nodding, looking up at Brian as he sings back, expression twinkly and open and a trifle cheeky, as if somehow he recognises more than the obvious, that he sees Brian's appreciation and knows somehow that Bri had wanted to come and be around him, to get to know him. To be friends. Brian shakes his head. He's being silly, why, how on earth would Roger be able to tell that? Is he such an open book, to be read so easily? </p><p>Yet <i>"...and the truth is plain to see,"</i> Roger croons. He lifts his brows cheekily, and Brian cannot stop himself from making a face in return. He almost freezes in horror then, wondering if that was offending, but after freezing in place for a split second Roger tosses his head back with a roar of laughter, arms tightening around Brian as he whirls the pair of them in a circle. Brian's breath whooshes out with relief as he expels a slightly breathy answering chuckle.</p><p>
  <i>But I wandered through my playing cards and would not let her be;
One of sixteen vestal virgins who were leaving for the coast - and although my eyes were open, they might have just as well've been closed....</i>
</p><p>He certainly isn't one to let be, Brian thinks along with the lyrics, almost in amusement, pondering the playing cards he himself had come to Roger's door with; the awkwardness, the lack of surety, and yet here he is, not a dancer, spinning around and now joining in singing. Roger's voice hangs on the lyrics high and pure and crystal-clear.</p><p>
  <i>And so it was that la - a - ater, as the miller told his tale...</i>
</p><p>They dance alone a moment then, coming back together, arms around each other, Brian's tenor murmur layering with Roger's.</p><p>
  <i>"That her face, at first just ghostly<br/>
Turned a whiter, shade of pale..."</i>
</p><p>How, in the space of a single song, could Brian's thoughts have eased so much, he does not know; but he tightens his arms around Roger as listening to the organ they dance together, stepping in time to the beat, and there's a connection, a moment where Brian looks into Roger's cornflower eyes with a flash of clarity in the depths of his own. Roger gazes back, seeming to feel it too. </p><p>It's only a flash, but in that moment, it seems to both of them that something has begun, and this night been strengthened, between them. </p><p>Something indelible.</p><p>
  <i>And so it was that later...</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Brian May and Roger Taylor are wonderful and I esteem and appreciate their friendship very much.</p><p>Upon listening to 'A Whiter Shade of Pale' by a band called Procol Harum, from 1967, I thought about the early days of Roger and Brian getting to know each other (and I couldn't get the idea of a shirtless Roger dancing round his room to this song out of my head)</p><p>Here's a <a href="https://youtu.be/PHJRouEN-SY">link</a> to listen</p><p>Hope you enjoyed this little piece, comments are appreciated &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>